Invincible Girl
by Syblime
Summary: Sybil leaves England and the disapproval of her parents for Ireland with her new husband. There she has to endure heartbreak, rejection and prejudice but she also finds love. Eventual S/T.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello lovely people._

_I began this fic about five years ago when I also made a promise, mainly to myself, not to upload any more multi chapter fics until they were finished. Save my poor readers from waiting years for me to update. This is the result, and I can finally post it! It's twelve chapters and I'm going to aim for weekly updates. This is a completely new way of doing things for me, so do bear with me!_

_Shout out to crystabelshalott for pointing me in the direction of script line for the DA transcripts._

_The title and a lot of inspiration were taken from the song Invincible Girl by Bad Pollyanna. Check it out on Youtube._

_Usual disclaimers, I don't own Downton Abbey. All mistakes are my own._

_I really hope you enjoy it. :)_

* * *

**Invincible Girl**

"Sybil!" She smiled as she spotted Edward and waved back at him. Walking quickly she moved across the large courtyard and into his solid embrace. "How was your day?"

"Long! Our lessons overran this morning and Matron had us running here, there and everywhere this afternoon. A new batch of soldiers have arrived. Are you hungry?"

"Fairly, but Sybil, there's something I need to talk to you about." He sounded happy, but her stomach dropped at his words.

"What is it?"

"Hey, no need to sound so worried, but I won't say it here. Are you finished? We could walk along the river?"

"Yes. I'll take this apron off and fetch my coat."

They were soon on their way. The evening sun was leaving streaks of pink in the pale sky in front of them as they walked.

"I got my posting today."

Sybil closed her eyes in resignation. She'd known this day would come. When Edward had first arrived at the York hospital where she was training to be a nurse, he'd just been moved from having emergency treatment in London on a stomach wound. He'd been the first patient she'd connected with. The first man really. They had started walking out together as soon as he was able to. He had then visited her while she had her Christmas break at Downton, and Sybil's father had immediately dismissed any chance of a match between them. Sybil had overheard her parent's disapproval clearly enough, although what they had actually said to her was a lot more cryptic. Pleading with her to attend at New Year when Larry Grey would be visiting and similar such hints. She had barely spoken to them since. Edward was the man she was set on, but from the sound of it she was about to lose him to the war on the continent.

"When do you leave?" She asked dryly.

"I'm to meet up with some of the other lads and receive some training first. I leave two days after you finish your course next week!"

"You needn't sound so happy about it." She snapped, picking up the pace. Edward laughed.

"Sybil. You haven't asked me where it is yet."

She stopped then, turning slowly to face him, her eyes wide. "You… You're not going to France?"

"No." He was grinning now. "I'm going to Ireland. They're providing somewhere to live. It's all very reasonable. Some of the men are even taking their families… Syb?" He knelt down in front of her, pulling a small box out of his jacket pocket. "Come with me?"

Her answer was lost somewhere between a gasp, a sob and a yes, but she flung her arms around his neck, stopping him from getting up.

"Hey," he laughed. "I need to put this on your finger at some point!"

Sybil stepped back, happy tears already rolling down her cheeks as he slid the engagement ring onto her finger. She gazed at it lovingly before flinging herself once more at the man in front of her. He laughed again and span her around.

"But Syb, what about your family?" She froze slightly at the question.

"They won't approve, but we don't need them."

"You're not yet twenty-one. I need your father's permission."

"I can lie. They won't check. Not during the war. We'll get a license and go to one of those offices like your friend did."

"Peter. Are you sure?"

"Of course! I'll be twenty-one in under a year anyway."

"But wouldn't you want a church wedding?" He asked again, teasingly.

"Edward!" She hit him playfully on the arm. "I love you and that's all that matters."

They were married the following weekend and spent the night in a little room over Sybil's local pub in York. As she lay in the darkness, tangled in hot sheets with Edward snoring slightly beside her, Sybil felt at peace. The war may still be raging on the continent, but for this night she was in her own little bubble of happiness that felt like it could last forever.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to my guest reviewers! :)_

_Here's chapter 2._

* * *

**Invincible Girl**

"I've been reading about the war in Ireland. It doesn't seem very fair, does it? I mean we've granted plenty of other countries freedom in the past few… "

"Syb, stop bothering yourself with all that nonsense. You're beginning to sound like one of the Pankhurst sisters!"

Sybil frowned in response at her reflection in the dingy mirror as she adjusted her hat pin.

"What I say isn't fair," Edward continued, "is that these fellows are causing all these problems at home when they should be helping us fight the Germans."

"They've been fighting for this longer than we have in France…"

"It's still silly of them to do so. Are you ready Syb? We should be in good time for the train."

"Yes, I'm ready." Most of her luggage from York had been sent on in advance, along with the belongings of the other wives making the journey. Not for the first time was Sybil grateful that she had only brought what she needed back after Christmas, and dissuaded her sisters from loading her up with pointless evening gowns.

The young couple walked hand in hand to the station, but once they got there Edward joined the rest of the men, who were discussing the situation they were likely to meet once they arrived in Ireland. Sybil stood at the edge of the group, listening. It didn't sound so bad. Just a couple of rebel leaders who needed putting in their place. She was still listening when a couple of women came up to her.

"Sybil, dear. Isn't this exciting? James tells me it will be your first time setting up house! I shall be happy to help you if you need anything."

"Thank you Mrs Southerby." Sybil replied with a polite smile.

"Such a shame though for you that houses have already been arranged for us all. It's such a delight picking out your own fabrics and furnishings. The officers there will have no doubt found something quite dreary."

"But practical. Indeed if I am able I intend to put my nursing to use, so won't have time to arrange furniture anyway."

The other woman laughed. "Harriet! Come here. Edward has married a radical! She intends to be a nurse."

"Oh, that's splendid." Said Harriet, ignoring her friend. "I ran a knitting group for a while. These poor men don't get many comforts. I shall try and make up some food parcels for you to take to them. Peter won't mind." While Sybil was grateful for some support, she did want to protest that her nursing was more than just making the men comfortable, but the train pulling in stopped her. The other women started shrieking over some lost hat box and for a moment Sybil wondered what on earth she was doing. Then she felt a warm hand on the small of her back and she melted a little into the touch.

"Everything okay?" Edward asked.

"Yes. It is now." He gave her a questioning look, but said no more and helped her into the carriage.

"Peter thinks the crossing will be quite rough." He told her as they pulled out of the station. "He's being quite silly over it! George and I know it will be smooth as silk, and it's only a short journey anyway." Sybil smiled. Nature had a way of being unpredictable. She thought about her poor cousins on board the Titanic, but it would be no good conveying that to Edward. He fancied the sea would be calm and would argue thus until the cows came home. She watched the rolling fields out of the train window and thought of Downton. She had told them that her course lasted another week yet, giving her the distance to then write to them about what she had done. Guilt still tugged at her somewhat, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, found the marker in her book and settled down for the journey.

In Liverpool they had been provided with accommodation, but it once again left Sybil debating whether or not she had done the right thing. The room was full of lingering cigarette smoke, and when she tried to open the window, it wouldn't budge. Edward was asleep the instant he lay down, leaving Sybil feeling irritable and lonely, despite the fact he was next to her. In fact she was still getting used to having someone sleep beside her. The hours ticked by on a tiny clock that ticked far more loudly than it looked capable of! At six o'clock a servant knocked on the door to rouse them for the ferry. Edward rolled over and sleepily pulled his wife towards him.

"Edward, not now. We have to be on the boat in an hour." She slipped out of the bed, picked up a few bits and shut herself in the tiny bathroom. Her tired reflection gazed listlessly back at her as she splashed some cool water on her face. Edward meanwhile had dismissed her strange mood and was whistling a jaunty tune as he dressed. Sybil closed her eyes against the sound and finished getting ready.

The walk to the ferry cleared her head somewhat, especially from the smoke, and when Edward put his arm around her she felt the excitement of their journey return. The lay of the land soon became a mere line in the distance and Sybil breathed in deeply.

"It puts us all more in perspective when England looks that small, doesn't it?"

"Yes." Sybil replied, smiling at the woman beside her. "And the beauty of the morning makes the war feel so far away."

"I suppose so. Although when Peter told me we had to travel by ferry, my stomach turned, for I was sure we would get torpedoed, like the poor people on the Lusitania." Harriet gave a bland laugh. "Peter said I was silly to be reading such things."

"I think…"

"Harriet! Sybil! There you both are! Isn't this horrific? These waves make me feel quite giddy! But I believe your poor Edward is suffering more. He was white as a sheet last I saw of him. Have either of you seen James? He has quite disappeared."

"I should go and find my husband. Perhaps you could come with me and look for Mr Southerby en route?" Sybil offered.

"No, dear, I shall sit here for a while to steady myself. Tell him where I am if you see him." Mrs Southerby plonked herself down ungraciously in one of the chairs and began tittering away to Harriet. Sybil smiled at her antics, and wandered along the boat. She found Edward in one of the bunks with a cold compress on his forehead and his hands clutching the sides.

"How are you feeling?" Sybil asked.

"Absolutely wretched. I owe Peter five pounds, just because the weather turned." Sybil just chuckled. "Don't laugh." He grumbled at her.

"Oh my poor darling." She cooed mockingly. His only response was a groan as the boat lurched again. She took his hand. "You know, Edith always gets sea sick. Even just thinking about it affects her. We went to the Isle of Wight one year and she was shaking before we set foot on the ferry." She continued telling him stories and let him doze for the rest of the journey.

Sybil was tired by the time they landed and would have liked nothing better than to relax in a nice soft chair by the fire, but the rest of them were off to the pub. Edward was still a bit groggy, but had voiced his approval, leaving her no choice but to follow. She could feel eyes on them as they walked through the streets and she was glad they'd been met by a commander who was leading them to a pro-English establishment. Out on the streets you could feel the hatred and anger like a storm brewing. Sybil shuddered. The men all ordered dark Irish beers and talked loudly in the pub. Sybil sat with a small glass of lemonade in the corner with the other women, but she paid them no heed, letting her mind wander.

It was Edward who eventually drew her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find him standing over her, that languid, lazy smile on his face that made him look so becoming. She returned his smile with her own.

"Shall we go and find our new home, my dear?"

Her smile grew. "Yes."

The door was painted dark blue with a bronze knocker. He swept her up and carried her over the threshold, telling her it was only right, now they had a place of their own. Their trunks were waiting for them in the simply furnished living room. The kitchen had a motif of clovers going round it, which Sybil found adorable but Edward was less happy about. Their bedroom was upstairs, fresh linins already provided. He'd made love to her then, and now Sybil lay in the darkness. She loved Edward and enjoyed their sessions in bed, but she was never quite… satisfied. Sybil blushed just thinking about it. She didn't know how or why exactly. Lord, she didn't know any different, but she just felt there was something wanting.


	3. Chapter 3

_Meant to say I've shifted the timeline a bit, so Sybil begins her nursing course in late 1915. The reason why will become obvious here!_

* * *

**Invincible Girl**

Their life in Ireland soon settled into a rhythm, with Edward out fighting and Sybil trying to find a nursing position, without much luck. As winter thawed into spring, Sybil found herself grateful for the returning warmth – she'd had no idea Ireland would be quite so cold! But everything else the season brought with it was bad news. The tension was increasing, leading to more open fighting, and infinitely more doors were getting slammed in her face. It got to the point where she would go home and scream; or break down in tears. Edward insisted walking with her wherever he could. It was a little smothering, although nice to spend more time with him. Some days he would be away for a whole twenty four hours, before returning cold, tired and hungry. Her cooking was improving, or at least she was getting more adventurous with it.

They were walking up North King's Street one day, on the way to Edward's post which was just around the corner from the market she normally frequented. Sybil felt Edward stiffen as a figure appeared out of the mist on the other side of the road from them, but paid little heed. He was always overprotective. She was still chattering away about the ingredients she needed for the recipe she was planning, when she heard the gun shot. Or felt it. The ripples of noise going right through her as she dropped to the ground, mirroring the man on the opposite pavement. But whereas she was crouched with her hands over her ears, his body just slumped and lay there.

Edward had a grip on her arm in an instant, pulling her to her feet and along the street. Sybil stared behind her, unable to take her eyes off the body. The man had been little older than she was!

"Why did you do that?" She screamed at Edward, finally coming back to her senses and yanking her arm away.

Her husband just shrugged. "He was probably a rebel."

"Probably?!" She looked at him incredulously. "That's what you fight by? If's and maybe's?"

"Syb." He hissed at her. "You don't know what they're doing. Better to kill him now than face him later." He regarded her for a moment, still looking the way they'd come. "War is a man's game Syb. Don't get involved with what doesn't concern you." He started walking again.

"Concern me?" She followed him angrily. "I live here now, unless you'd forgotten that! Why couldn't you have just questioned him?"

"Because he was dangerous…"

"He was a boy!" He gave no reply. "You're cruel, Edward. This war has changed you. You're no longer the man I married." She added, although tears were already blurring her vision.

She let them fall once she got home, slamming the door behind her. She couldn't get the image of the young man on the pavement, or the gunshot out of her head. It was only after an hour, when she was out of tears that she realised she'd never even gone to the market. Sybil sighed. She changed her crumpled blouse and went out to get the bits she needed. A couple of other shots rang out across the city, making her heart freeze as she heard them.

She went to bed early that night to avoid speaking to her husband, their dinner left untouched on the side. Sybil couldn't eat. She'd seen a boy murdered for no reason at all. And by the hand of someone she loved. Her sleep was fitful and she was unsurprised to find herself alone when she woke. Normally Sybil didn't like staying at home, but today she did, washing everything as if that would get rid of the memory. She went to bed alone and miserable.

The following day she heard the whispers – fighting at Mount Street Bridge. Words of heroes and villains and death tolls passed over the scarcely stocked market stalls. Everywhere she was met by cold stares. Sybil began to wonder for the safety of her husband and wished more than anything that he was with her. There was nothing for her to do. The streets scared her, but the house felt suffocating. It was another two long days before she received a missive informing her of Edward's death. It appeared to be a hastily written note, scribbled in the heat of battle, for it was not very eloquent.

~X~

Sybil was woken by a loud, intrusive knocking on the door. She rubbed her tired eyes and squinted at the clock. It was ten thirty. Of what day she didn't know – they'd all blurred into one. She only became aware of how dishevelled she must look after she'd opened the door to find three men standing there. She'd slept in her clothes for the most part. Trying her best to ignore the voice in her head that sounded remarkably like her sister, scolding her for her personal presentation, she stepped forward.

"Can I help you?"

"We need to get the property cleared. Are you ready to leave?"

"Excuse me?" Sybil frowned at the man. "I live here?"

"This is the property of the British Army, and we have more troops arriving. I'm sorry for your loss, but houses ain't exactly easy to come by over here. Most of the girls go back to England, an' I don't blame 'em. I'd go back myself."

"I…" Sybil was at a loss.

The man sighed. "We'll come back in an hour." And with that he walked off, with his companions, leaving Sybil no choice but to pack up her belongings.

~X~

She was ready when they came. She had her trunk and some small bags. Edward's trunk lay by the door.

"That's his." She told the men, blandly. "His mother's address is on the table." With that she walked off. However, by the end of the path she broke down in tears.

"I can help you get this to the hotel on the corner, or some other place nearby, if you want?" The lad offered, his accent heavy and standing him apart from the other men. He'd obviously taken pity on her. Looking into his young face, Sybil suddenly had a flashback to the man on North King's street. She sucked in a breath and tried to regain her composure.

"Yes. The Hotel. Thank you."

He smiled at her. A cheeky grin that was impossible not to react to, and despite herself Sybil smiled back. The first time in days.


	4. Chapter 4

_To my guest reviewer, Thank you! Sybil's story continues here and I hope you find it plausible._

* * *

**Invincible girl**

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Sybil muttered to her reflection in the tiny mirror. It was seemingly her roommate's favourite saying that Sybil had adopted, but really it was hard to tell if Ethel had favourites of anything! They'd met in a pub. Sybil was just finishing her shift when Ethel had come out with the phrase, followed by _'Hey, have a drink with me.'_ They chatted until Ethel got dragged off by a client. When Sybil lost the job it was Ethel who suggested they share – _'I'd be glad to split the rent and the neighbours don't ask questions!'_ she'd laughed. Most of her 'business' was 'taken care of' elsewhere, so she shouldn't be bothering Sybil too often with that. The red-head was both an inspiration and a warning to Sybil. Her good mood never seemed to fail her, yet Sybil was determined to keep herself without selling her body.

The first few weeks on her own had been difficult. She flitted between the hotel and some of the other army wives who were willing to put her up, but just being in that part of the town made her stomach turn. The pub had been a welcome opportunity – a small wage and a room – but after a month she was told that her accent was making customers uncomfortable and she would have to find somewhere else to live by the end of the week. Once she was settled with Ethel, her job search was halted by a number of old ladies in the building asking if she could fetch this and that which meant she was running all over the town. Ethel had laughed when Sybil had told her what was going on.

"Charge the old bats! A couple of shillings or whatever. No one else is daft enough to care about them, so they'll have no option but to pay you!" Sybil frowned. "Hey, chick, it's a start. If they trust you, they'll tell their friends and you can build yourself up. And I've managed this far on my own, so if you can't pay me a month, don't worry about it. You're doing me a favour just by taking over some of the cleaning, as far as I'm concerned!"

So that's what Sybil did. Mainly it was shopping they wanted, but every so often they would just chat. Many of them were able to relate to Sybil as a widow and none of them were bothered by her being English. Others had been prostitutes themselves and were all for recruiting Sybil to the cause of getting Ethel to do something else. Secretarial work was suggested a few times, which reminded Sybil of her efforts with Gwen, although in her opinion Ethel wasn't overly suited to office work.

She hadn't been lacking for custom, but a girl across the street had just had a baby and all the old ladies had gone to coo over the new-born, leaving Sybil with some time on her hands. She'd decided to try a road just minutes away, that had some slightly bigger houses and she could see if anyone wanted any washing or other jobs doing. She checked her reflection once more and left. She wasn't surprised by the first two doors promptly closing as soon as she opened her mouth. By the fourth it was disheartening. She sighed before knocking on the fifth.

"Good morning. I'm looking for some work locally and wondered if you had any washing, needlework or general chores that you need help with?" The woman in the doorway regarded Sybil. There was something familiar in her eyes that made Sybil feel comfortable.

"Well," she said at last, "with my sister losing her boy in the rising I haven't had much chance to set things straight here. The curtains especially could do with being washed. Come back this time tomorrow, if you will and I'll give you a trial, miss…?" Sybil opened her mouth to reply, but then realised the lady's mistake. And her own! She'd been about to say Crawley. She paled at the thought.

"Sybil. Please, just call me Sybil." She rushed. "And your name?"

"Margaret Branson."

"Pleased to meet you Mrs Branson, and I shall be back tomorrow."

When Ethel got back to their apartment Sybil was collapsed on the sofa, crying. "Hey, chick, what's wrong."

"She asked for my name." Sybil sobbed.

Ethel frowned. "Who?"

"The woman. Five doors…"

"Did she offer you a job?"

"Mmhmm."

"Then of course she'd… oh."

"She assumed I was single."

"Everyone assumes I'm married." Sybil looked up at her friend, daggers in her eyes, but the expression on Ethel's face broke her composure and she ended up laughing despite herself.

The following day she knocked on the door and was greeted by a young girl.

"Hello. Mrs Branson is expecting me."

"Mam! There's some English gal here to see you."

"Darrell, you were meant to be out of that door with your brother!" The girl frowned.

"I can't help that when he runs off early!"

"Well hurry up and go now." Mrs Branson appeared in the doorway. "Your aunt doesn't like being on her own, but she won't know if you are late. Come in." She ushered Sybil into the living room. "If you could start by getting those down?" She pointed to the curtains. "There's a chair if you need it. I'll make sure the water is hot. If we get them done quickly we might get them dry today if the weather holds. Darrell are you STILL here?! You're ya father's daughter alright!"

Sybil chuckled. Mrs Branson reminded her of Mrs Patmore bossing Daisy about. She got on with the task she'd been set. After about ten minutes she heard the door slam and assumed Darrell had finally left. She stepped down off the chair and gathered the curtains together to take to Mrs Branson, but a photograph caught her eye. A man with two boys.

"My husband." Sybil jumped and spun round.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"You're not. I'm telling you." Sybil smiled sheepishly. "My two youngest don't remember him that well. The drink won in the end. But I like that picture."

Sybil nodded. "I lost my husband in the rising. I don't have any pictures."

"Not even of your wedding?"

Sybil shook her head. "I never even thought about it. All that mattered was that we would be together. It seems silly in hindsight."

"Explains why you're in Ireland though. I did wonder. Come on, let's get these washed." Sybil blinked back the tears, grateful that the older woman knew when to change the subject. She didn't stay long after that, but went back the following week and soon found the company of Mrs Branson to be a highlight of her routine. Most of the time the older woman would work with her. Occasionally she would set Sybil on a task and then leave – normally Darrell would be in the house, but other than letting Sybil out she wasn't very communicative. One day Mrs Branson set Sybil stirring a large pot on the stove while she quickly went to the market. Cooking was still a skill Sybil had to master, considering in York she had always eaten in the cafeteria, and when she was by herself she was quite lazy and would only prepare very basic meals. Therefore she was relieved to hear the door, in order to hand back over the pot of ingredients, some of which she couldn't even name.

"Mrs Branson?" She stepped into the hall and almost collided with a young man.

"Mam's right behind me." He had the same grin as the other two boys in the photo and Margaret Branson's dark blonde hair. Sybil blinked.

"You helped me. When they moved me out." His grin faded immediately.

"David, if you stand there chatting to the girl the barley will stick! One of you get back in the kitchen!" Sybil fled, guilty of abandoning her post.

"Mam, what's an English widow doin' here? Does Tommy know?"

"She's here helping me keep the house straight and no, your brother does not know! How's that doing?" She walked into the kitchen and turned her attention to Sybil. She took the spoon from the English girl and stirred it a bit herself. "Good. If you have time you can get peeling those potatoes. David should be down soon to help. Do you know my son? He spoke as if you'd met?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say I know him, but he helped me with my belongings when they moved me out." She laughed, "I'd still probably be walking the streets if he hadn't. Edward was gone and I was in a strange city on my own. I had no idea what to do, but he got me to a hotel at least. I'm ever so grateful to him." Mrs Branson seemed to be studying her. "What is it?" Sybil looked down at herself in case she had got stew on her dress or something.

"He's met one or two of the women he's moved out before. In pubs, at the market. They try to threaten him with everything they can. Tends to be the young ladies from posh families who don't realise they are in a war zone. I was with him one day when one of them went for him. You should have seen her face when I told her that her man could well have shot my nephew. They don't realise it's two sided! You're the first woman to thank him."

"It's the English government who evicted me. The way I see it has nothing to do with the English/Irish conflict, but your son was the only one of those men to see me as a human being. Providing the house was empty and the job was done, they'd have let me wander off and get myself killed. But how come your son is working for them? Are you… Pro-British?"

Margaret shrugged. "One of my sons lives and works in England. My eldest daughter is a nurse, irrespective of sides. For David this is a good position. He's not bright, but it pays well. And my other son is a chauffeur for an old lady, and then wastes all of our fuel writing pro-Irish articles or some other political nonsense by night. Tell me, which side am I meant to be on?"

"But Tommy doesn't know I do this. He thinks I'm still shifting vegetables for ol' Mr Gamgee down the road." David plonked himself in the chair next to Sybil. With bare feet and his hair flopping over his face he looked even younger than when Sybil had last seen him.

"Talking of vegetables, you can help Sybil with those potatoes!" He rolled his eyes good naturedly at his mother for Sybil to see and got on with the job.

~X~

Sybil enjoyed the company of mother and son. David was a lot more chatty than his sister and the good natured comments that flew between him and his mother would have had Sybil in stitches, if her aristocratic upbringing hadn't prevented her. She left their house much later than she had planned, but her spirits were high. So it was just her luck that an envelope was waiting for her that very evening.

* * *

_AN: *Peers out from behind the cushion I'm hiding behind* Tom does appear in the next chapter, I promise! _

_Hope you like my version of the Bransons. I've been quite excited for you to meet them. _

_Apologies for the LOTR reference. Couldn't help myself! ;)_

_I haven't done much research for this fic, so I don't know if David's job would exist and I don't know anything about prostitution in Ireland, so I'm pleading creative licence if anything seems very OOC!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Invincible Girl**

She'd had the letter a few days now. Mary's neat script displaying her new address seemed odd. Sybil had written to them once she got to Ireland, explaining that she loved Edward and that she had gone with him. After the argument with her parents at Christmas, it can't have been a huge shock to her family. She had written to her sister only to tell her of Edward's death and to assure them all that she was okay, and then one further letter to update Mary with an address for her. This was the first letter she'd had in reply and it terrified her. The old bats, as Ethel called them, obviously wanted her to open it. As far as they were aware she had no family, so a sudden letter from a sister left her once more in the spotlight of their attentions. She'd found a bench in the park and was flipping the envelope over and over in her hands.

"Oh, just do it, Sybil!" She scolded herself before ripping it open.

She sighed at her sister's cutting words, likely echoes of their father, telling her how silly she had been and that she should come home at once. Sybil scoffed at that. She couldn't go back. Not now. She was living a different world. Her parents would have her knitting and organising charity galas, but no more. Mary wrote on that Cousin Matthew was well – surviving the fighting, Sybil thought bitterly. She read enough of the papers to know that her cousin was likely involved in the summer offensive. However, she was surprised by her sister's next comment; that when Matthew did have time off, he spent it in London, and rarely came to see the family. Sybil knew Matthew was a city boy really, but she saw no draw for him in London. After the quarrel with Mary he was distant, but they were all distracted with the news of the war. He joined up soon after. She also knew that Mary was hurt by Matthews apparent rejection of them, because while Mary kept it factual on paper, her sister was very much still in love with their cousin. Sybil decided not to read too much into it. There was a final plea to come back to England and some trivial words about the opera in Covent Garden before Mary signed off. There was no compassion. Sybil inwardly laughed at herself for expecting any. Mary hadn't shed a tear when Patrick died. Of course there would be none for the man who, in her eyes, stole her baby sister.

The evening was a murky pink as the light faded as much as it ever does in summer. Sybil stood up slowly and made her way back to the flat. She climbed the stairs, turned the key and opened the door.

"Ah, ah, ah. Ooh! Yes!" Sybil quickly reversed her steps. Leaning against the door, she wondered what she should do, but quickly the door opposite opened.

"Sybil! Have you opened that letter yet?"

"Yes, I have…"

"Good, then you can come in and tell me all about it, but don't you go charging me for a nice friendly chat! You young people nowadays think you can get away with all sorts!"

Sybil laughed. "Yes Mrs Martin." She spent the next half hour with the old lady before she found herself once again on the landing wondering what she should do. Eventually she decided to go to the pub. There was one not far away that she'd been to before with Ethel. Still thinking about Mary's letter she walked the short distance, sat herself down on a barstool and absentmindedly ordered half a pint. It took a moment before she realised the barman was giving her a strange look.

"Is there a problem?" She asked.

"I said not in here, miss. You'll have to go someplace else."

"Someplace else?" she parroted.

"Yes miss." She could tell the man was losing his patience with her. "You lot aren't welcome here." Oh. The penny dropped, and she became aware of several glares from the other customers. She murmured an apology, quickly vacated her seat and in her haste walked straight into a man in the doorway.

"That bad was it?" He asked good-humouredly.

"I'm sorry sir."

"You're English?"

"It would seem so." She bit back, her irritation getting the better of her.

"One of those days, huh? Wait here." He turned to go into the pub, but paused, "I mean would you do me the honour of waiting here for just a minute?"

Sybil giggled, taking up the game herself. "I'd be delighted sir, but only for a minute. No longer." In the poor light she missed his answering smile, but nevertheless waited eagerly for him to return.

"Still here?" He was carrying a bottle with him. "It's not their best, but not bad either. Do you drink whiskey?"

"On occasion." She told him, despite the fact she'd only tried it once with Ethel and the evening hadn't ended well for her. She followed his strides in, what was for her, a new direction. They emerged through a line of trees on the side of the road into a large open park.

"I'm Tom by the way." He extended his hand to her.

"Sybil."

"You didn't seem very impressed back there, being labelled as English. Are you for Irish independence?" He asked, taking a swig from the bottle and sitting down on the dry grass.

"I suppose I am." She answered, following his lead and sitting next to him.

"So you're interested in politics?"

"Yes, but I'm not very up to date. The ladies I work for care a great deal for gossip, but not so much events with a wider impact."

He chuckled and handed Sybil the bottle. "I find that's a general problem in society. If it doesn't affect them personally, it's inconsequential. For me it's not just about freedom for Ireland, or votes for women. It's the gap between the aristocracy and the poor, on a global scale."

"Quite the revolutionary." Sybil said, not quite sure whether the warmth running through her was from the alcohol or from his passionate speech. She took another swig, daring the wrath of her ancestors, who she could imagine would be rolling in their graves at the youngest daughter of the Earl of Grantham drinking whiskey out of the bottle, late at night with a strange man she didn't even know, in a park in Ireland. She sipped again just to defy them.

"I'm a socialist, not a revolutionary, and don't drink all of that!" If she'd have been fully sober, Sybil would never have dared, but tonight she held the bottle away from him, forcing him to lean over her to reach it. "Playing hard to get already?" He teased, easily reaching the bottle, but Sybil, for the first time, looked properly into his eyes. The colour was hard to make out in the almost darkness, but the clarity stunned her. For a second they were just inches apart, but Tom manoeuvred himself back to drink. While he was preoccupied, she shifted away fractionally, ashamed and scared of where her thoughts were taking her. Edward was only a few months dead, and she was losing herself in the depths of another man's eyes.

"It's beautiful here," she said, changing the subject for her own sake. "You could just lay back and look at the stars."

Tom gave her a look, but then stretched his legs out, lay back and tucked his arms under his head. "Hmm, stars. Satisfied?"

She giggled and lay down as well. "Tell me more about events here in Ireland."

"Well, Government has recently prohibited the carrying of arms without a permit, which is something…" They stayed there talking for over half an hour before Tom sat up.

"I have work early tomorrow, so if you don't mind, I shall escort you home?" Sybil paled. If he knew where she lived he may come to the assumption that she was a prostitute, and she couldn't bear that. The area was notorious for it.

"Just back to the pub should be fine." She tried to smile at him.

"Sybil, Ireland isn't the place right now for English women to be walking alone at night. I'm not trying to pry, or stand in the way of your independence, I just want you to be safe."

Her heart melted a little at his words. "Okay. Thank you." He smiled warmly at her and offered a hand to help her up.

~X~

"Where were you last night?" Ethel asked, wandering into the small kitchen where Sybil was already sat with a cup of tea.

"Just to the pub. You had company."

"It doesn't take that long, I mean they are paying for it!" She giggled and Sybil flinched. Her head had been okay, providing she made no sudden movements, but Ethel's distinctive laugh also proved too much. Ethel however noticed. "How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, just…" Ethel waited, but seemingly her friend wasn't going to finish the sentence.

"Yes?" She prompted.

"Whiskey." Sybil muttered.

"Sybil!" She flinched again. "You know you can't drink whiskey! Lord knows I thought you learnt that last time!"

"Ethel." Sybil moaned. "I need to get ready." She got up but Ethel followed her.

"What had you hitting the bottle then?"

"Letter from Mary. She thinks I should go home."

"And you don't want to."

"It's…" she shrugged her shoulders, "difficult."

"Chick, whiskey is never going to help on that."

Sybil was about to mention the handsome stranger, but thought better of it. The old ladies weren't the only ones with a love of gossip. "Well, let's just hope they go easy on me today." She said and straightened her hat. Ethel snorted in disbelief, but let her go. Sybil greedily breathed in the fresh air and mentally prepared herself for the day ahead. The routine of work and mundane tasks helped Sybil feel more settled after Mary's letter, despite being faced with questions about it from each of the women she saw during the week. Occasionally, when it got too much she took solace in the clear eyes of the stranger she met, as well as his laugh and other groggy memories from that night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Invincible Girl**

One evening, a few days after the encounter with the handsome stranger, Sybil was snuggled up in bed with a book when she heard Ethel come back with another voice she didn't recognise.

"… and apparently Tommy Branson is now walking out with an English gal! Never thought I'd hear that! Picked her up at the pub with a grand bunch of flowers and they walked out together is what I was told. Even when we was younger he was devoted to this country. I remember some of the words he had to say about his brother goin' over there. And now he's shagging one of them!"

"Are you sure? I didn't know there was any English girls round here, other than Sybil."

"Maybe it was her!"

"Doubt it! Sybil!" Ethel called. Sybil pinched her eyes shut. She was hoping to avoid Ethel's friend, but anyway she dutifully responded to her friend's summon. "Sybil, there you are. This is Edna. She wants to know if you're acquainted with Tommy Branson."

"No, what I want to know is if she's been intimate with him?" Edna looked at Sybil expectantly.

"I don't know him and I've only ever done _that_ with my husband."

"See! I knew it wasn't her. I'd know if she'd met _him_!"

"But who else round here is English?" The two of them carried on the conversation, leaving Sybil just standing in the doorway. She studied Edna for a minute – Blonde hair that seemed to curl in just the right places, big blue eyes and lips that she'd drawn attention to by painting them bright red. Sybil had never seen lipstick in such a colour before. The woman was certainly striking. Sybil shrugged at the pair of them and went back to her book, but their interruption had broken her concentration and she found herself wondering about Tommy Branson. From what she'd picked up from Ethel and from Mrs Branson he obviously had quite radical views, but Edna knew him well too, so he was probably the type of man who slept around and dismissed women as mere objects. She decided she didn't like him.

~X~

Life continued much as normal. Sybil drafted a couple of letters in reply to her sister, but each time ended up scrunching the paper up. Eventually she gave up completely due to the amount of paper she'd wasted. Another week went by and the summer turned wet and humid, but one Saturday dawned bright and clear so Sybil decided to get her shopping early. It was on her way back that she saw a car parked at the side of the road. The motor was fairly similar to her father's back at Downton – this one was perhaps a little bit older – but it was the cry of the woman that caught Sybil's attention.

"Branson! Secure those boxes. I don't want the flying off with your wild driving."

Branson.

The illusive Tommy Branson. Sybil was too far away to get a proper look, but she could see he was well built. The dark blue uniform stretching across his broad shoulders suggested that! She could see why Edna was interested! He moved obediently around the car and started the engine. Sybil turned then. She didn't want to get caught staring at him. It was odd enough that she had stopped. However she did feel some pride at finally laying eyes on the man she had heard so much about.

Ethel was sitting at the table when she got home, only just awake, but seemingly waiting for her.

"Hey Chick, come out with us tonight."

"Oh no! No! Ethel you know I hate it when people make assumptions."

"We could go early and then you could leave. It's just… Edna doesn't seem to be herself at the moment."

"What can I do about it? You're her friend, can't you just talk to her?"

Ethel shrugged. "If you ask her, she says she's fine. You're a nurse ain't ya? You can come along and just tell?"

"Ethel, it's really not that simple…"

"Please Sybil."

Looking at her friend Sybil realised there was only one way to prevent this strange conversation from going on all day. "Alright, I'll come. But I won't stay long."

Ethel scrambled out of the chair to hug Sybil. "Thank you."

~X~

The two friends wandered out and to the pub Ethel was currently basing herself at. Sybil sat down with a lemonade while the red-head flirted shamelessly with the man behind the bar. He wasn't bad looking, but Sybil couldn't understand her friend's motive. She'd been brought up in a world where women were more or less auctioned off, instead of selling themselves. She gave a humourless laugh. These were the options open to women. She'd been lucky and found someone she actually loved, and look how that turned out!

"Hey Chick!" Ethel drew Sybil back to the present. "Stop daydreaming and get your nursing head on." She waved as Edna walked over. Sybil watched as the friends talked, unable to join in with their gossip. Edna seemed less forward than when Sybil last encountered her, and maybe a little subdued, but nothing out of the ordinary.

"Chick, another drink?" Ethel asked Sybil.

"Yes please." She handed her glass over.

"Three pints then!"

Sybil was used to this joke of Ethel's. Most of the time she ended up with something she actually wanted. Only twice had Ethel gone through with her threat, with Sybil ending up with a tall, dark glass of the local favourite.

"Wait, Ethel, I want something stronger than that crap!" The blond followed her friend over to the bar. She had put on a bit of weight, Sybil noticed, now the other woman was no longer wearing her coat. That might be why she seemed down. Sybil remembered a time when Larry Grey had made a comment about her figure, and imagined that for Edna and Ethel it would be even more hurtful as they relied on their good looks for their job.

"So any more news on Tommy B?" Ethel asked as she reached the table and pushed a glass of red wine to Sybil.

"No. Someone suggested to me that he might have taken her out of town, but that old bitch he works for would never allow that, so I don't know."

"I actually saw him earlier."

"You did?" Ethel turned to Sybil.

"Yes. He was working."

"Ooh, that uniform!" Ethel fanned herself with her hand.

"He did fit it rather well!" Sybil giggled.

"He fits everything well!" Edna added.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Warning: Contains mention of attempted suicide. Scroll to the ~X~ page break in bold for the next portion of the story.**_

* * *

**Invincible Girl**

"Mam!"

Sybil had been sewing with Mrs Branson and Darrell, but at the urgent call the older lady had disappeared.

"My sister Sarah," Darrell explained. "She works at the hospital sometimes, but a lot of the time she does emergency work on the streets. If there's something really bad she'll call in here for supplies."

A woman with the same dark hair as her sister, but more of her mother's face shape appeared in the doorway. "Darrell I could use your help."

"Me?" The younger sister squeaked.

"Yes you. Some slut tried to top herself."

"Anyone we know?" Darrell asked mockingly, but her sister looked daggers at her and realisation dawned on her face. "Edna…" She whispered. "Does Tommy know?"

"No! And I intend to keep it that way! You coming or not?" She asked impatiently. Sybil could tell by Darrell's expression that nursing was not her forte.

"I'll come." She found herself offering. "I've had some basic training as an auxiliary nurse." Sarah looked at her as if only noticing Sybil for the first time.

"Fine. Just as long as you don't faint at the sight of blood."

Darrell grinned at her as she got up to follow Sarah. She had to half run across the street to keep up with the oldest Branson girl, but after only a short while she was surprised to find that they'd stopped outside her own building and she could hear Ethel wailing even from outside.

"Oh Sybil!" The redhead flung her arms round her friend as soon as they entered. "She's going to die!"

"Shusssh. No she's not." She told Ethel while glancing over her shoulder at the blonde. "We're going to save her. Go and see Mrs Martin across the hall and get her to make you some tea." Sybil ushered her into the hallway and knocked on their neighbour's door. She knew the old lady would be only too keen to hear about whatever was going on, and the door opened straight away. Sybil dashed back to Sarah.

"Get me a towel and a bowl of hot water." Sybil did as she was told and then stood at Sarah's shoulder.

"Why?" She murmered.

Sarah looked at her coldly. "She's a prostitute. If they get pregnant, they can't work. Common problem. It's not like the father would ever help."

"Pregnant! Oh my God." Sybil gasped.

Once they'd done what they could for Edna, they made sure she was comfortable in Sybil's bed, and Sybil started cleaning up. Eventually she emerged from the building to find Sarah smoking a cigarette.

"You did good in there. Whatever training you had certainly taught you to handle a crisis. I'm Sarah." She extended a hand to Sybil, who accepted.

"Sybil."

Sarah smiled. "It's probably best just to let her sleep. You're welcome to stay with us. I know mam won't mind. She likes you."

"Thank you."

"Gather what you'll need and I'll walk back with you now."

They were partway back when Sybil started; "I hope I'm not too forward in saying this, but there seems to be a lot of things your family are keeping from your brother."

"Which one?"

"Tommy."

"Oh. Well, today – Edna's an old girlfriend of his. They were together before she started soliciting herself. That was only after her mother died. Her father obviously didn't take it well, and he's rarely seen anymore, but the rumour is that he's lost a lot of money gambling. Edna has a young brother, but he was taken by an aunt and now goes to school in the north. Edna was left to look after herself. It was before all of this that my brother and her decided they weren't right for each other. Tommy may not be schooled as such, but he's clever. She's not. But if I told him about what happened today he'd probably promise himself to her. For all his faults he is very kind-hearted, whereas she is cunning and sly, and I don't want that for my brother. If there are other things we're not telling him, it's likely because he'd fly off the handle. You haven't met him, have you? Else you'd know he's got a temper! And personally I get on better with my older brother, Kieran. Me and Tommy were so close in age that we were always butting heads. I shouldn't worry about it Sybil. It's common amongst siblings."

Sybil found the rebuttal a bit odd considering she also had sisters, but supposed she'd never mentioned them to any of the Bransons'. Sarah pushed her way into the house.

"Mam! Can Sybil stay here for a night or two?"

Sybil waited in the hall. It felt somehow different coming in as a guest, rather than as her working self. She could hear the women talking in the other room and turned to Margaret's adornments on the walls to stop herself from listening in.

"Sybil dear," Mrs Branson walked up to her, "we can offer you the settee tonight. I might be able to sort a bed out for tomorrow."

"The sofa will be fine. Thank you."

**~X~ ~X~ ~X~**

Sybil was drifting somewhere between awake and asleep when she heard the front door. She squinted at the clock on the mantlepiece. It was 1.00am. She groaned and tried to roll over in the limited space afforded to her on the couch. The next instant there was a flickering lamp in the room and Sybil silently cursed whoever it was. She sat up and watched him sit down at the desk by the window. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and the poor light was making his hair glow golden. She could only assume this was Tommy Branson. His physique certainly fitted that of the man she saw by the car when she spotted him in town.

"Your mother said you use up all their oil. Do you want a cup of tea?" She said plainly.

"Please." He mumbled.

She left the room before he had a chance to comprehend what just happened. Sybil set about heating some water in the moonlit kitchen.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in my mother's house?"

Sybil steeled herself, ready to face the Tommy Branson everyone had described to her, but as she turned the fight was knocked out of her and it was lucky she hadn't been holding anything for if she had she would have surely dropped it.

"Tom!?"

"You?" His eyes widened at seeing her. "The girl from the pub! Sybil."

"You remembered?" She was somewhat surprised given his reputation, and at least expected a sassy retort, but he looked almost embarrassed. Shy even. He ran his hand through his hair, just like David did.

"I've looked for you since then. I even went back a couple of times, but never found a trace of you."

Sybil blushed at his attention. "It's not so easy for me to go out here."

"I know that, I just…" he didn't continue, but instead asked "so, why are you here? At my mam's?"

"I work here sometimes, but today I went out with Sarah and under the circumstances she said I could stay."

"Ah. You know I'm surprised Mam didn't offer you a proper bed." He said, relaxing more and leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he did so. Sybil tried not to stare at his flexing muscles and focussed herself on remembering where Mrs Branson kept the tea.

"Well she did, but only for tomorrow."

Tom suddenly looked ashamed. "She remembered I was coming home. She always remembers."

"She loves you. She loves all of you." She finished making the tea and set the cups on the table.

"So why are you in Ireland?" Tom asked. She played with the spoon for a second before answering him carefully.

"I had an argument with my parents."

Tom frowned. "Most posh girls who argue with their parents don't end up in war zones. Why here?"

"Who says I'm posh?" She challenged, avoiding the real question and keeping her eyes fixed on her cup.

"Sybil, I've worked in service long enough to know when someone is well-bred. But I'll let it be our secret. Thank you for the tea. I'll let you get back to sleep."

He left the room and she brushed the tears from her eyes. Why was she here? She'd fallen in love with a man, married against her parents wishes, then lost her husband and was now too afraid to go home. She wasn't even sure it was love. It was just infatuation and naivety. And now she was desperate to prove herself, somehow, before facing her father and inevitably getting locked in a gilded cage. Or thrown out on the streets. Mostly she hated the fact that they had been right. Sybil wandered through into the sitting room and lay back down, staring at the ceiling and missing her family.

* * *

_AN: I don't much like what I've done with this one. I've reduced a serious issue to a way of moving the plot on. And I apologise for that. In the historical context women did go to extreme lengths to abort pregnancies, such as taking rat poison, so when I wrote it I felt it wasn't unrealistic. However, that doesn't excuse poor writing. Any constructive criticism would be much appreciated, and I hope you at least enjoyed the S/T reunion._


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you so much to my guest reviewer! I needed your encouragement last chapter. _

_Home stretch now and happier times ahead for our favourite couple. _

_Enjoy :)_

* * *

**Invincible Girl**

Her sleep was fitful and she woke early. Wandering bleary-eyed into the kitchen she found Tom already sitting there.

"They hanged Roger Casement." He told her, his expression one of pain and disbelief.

"How terrible. Am I right that he was the one who turned up on a submarine in County Kerry?"

~X~

When Margaret Branson found them half hour later they were deep in discussion. She smiled at seeing her son so relaxed, but also noticed that Sybil was still in her nightdress. Tom was dressed – he'd obviously been out to get the newspaper.

"Tommy, stop bothering the lass with all ya politics."

"It's my fault Mrs Branson. I was asking your son too many questions." Sybil defended him.

"That's all very well dear, but you might want to get dressed for the day." Sybil blushed, realising the weight of the older lady's words.

"Tommy! You're home!" Darrell launched herself at her brother. Sybil grinned at her affection and slipped out of the room. She changed quickly and joined the family for breakfast. Sarah was sitting there silently, having taken the newspaper off Tom. David must have left already. Mrs Branson and Darrell were happily chatting away, with Darrell aiming comments at her brother occasionally. Tom kept looking at Sybil, either rolling his eyes at his family, smiling that cheeky grin and once he even had the audacity to wink at her! Sybil found herself blushing more with each of his attentions, and so focussed on her porridge. Eventually Sarah spoke.

"Sybil, I could do with your help again today if you're free. You're a good nurse."

Tom's eyebrows shot up. "You're a nurse?"

She nodded at him. "Yes. I'd be happy to help. I have a couple of errands to run but I could easily do that this afternoon."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to spend the day with me."

Sybil was shocked. She liked Tom and had been enjoying his company, but she'd already been wound up in gossip surrounding Tommy Branson. If anyone saw them walking out together she'd never hear the end of it!

"You should spend some time with your family. They miss you." She could tell he was hurt by her rejection, but she couldn't do it. Not yet. "Maybe another time?" Hope immediately returned to shine in his eyes. She smiled at him, murmured thanks to Mrs Branson and dashed after Sarah.

"Tommy, you'd be a fool to go after that one."

"Mam!" He protested, only half turning from where he'd been watching Sybil.

"You'll end up with a broken heart."

"I thought you liked her?"

"I do! She's a nice lass, and a good worker."

"You just don't think she'd be interested in me?" He asked more seriously.

Margaret stood up and started gathering the dishes and bowls together. "It's too soon is all." She turned the tap on and began to wash up. Tom grabbed a cloth to help. He wanted to ask his mam more about the gorgeous, mysterious English girl, but got the impression that the conversation was over. Every time he spoke to Sybil he was amazed by her enthusiasm and intelligence, but he couldn't figure out why she was here – in Ireland. It just didn't make sense. There was something Sybil, and he reckoned his mam too, wasn't telling him.

~X~

After a busy morning with Sarah, Sybil went back to her flat. Ethel was sat on her own bed playing with her hair and Edna was still lying on Sybil's bed.

"I just came up to get some things." She went over to the shared wardrobe and pulled out a couple of blouses.

"Hey chick. Any news of Tommy B? I could do with some nice gossip. It's boring here with this one off the streets!" Ethel winked playfully at Edna, who just pouted, but they still looked eagerly to Sybil.

"I have seen him." She told them, sitting down with Ethel and leaning forwards. "But no girl with him." She joined the game, in the hope it would keep her name out of it for a bit. "Probably because I am staying at his mother's."

"Hah! He'd never take her back there. Margaret was devastated when Kieran went off to England."

"Weren't we all!" Edna chimed in. Sybil raised her eyebrows at the implication but didn't dare say anything to the blonde. "Besides you can hear everything in that house. I was there one time when Sarah kicked off at Tommy and I could hear them from the privy!"

Ethel burst out laughing. "Oh dear lord! You know, out of all of them I like Sarah least. Sorry chick, I know she's your pal, but she still scares me. Too prude as well." Edna nodded her agreement. "So how did he react to you? Being English, like her an' everything. Were there any giveaway signs?"

"Not really. He just asked what I was doing there. He didn't react to me being English at all."

"Ah ha! He would have thrown you out a month or two ago, so he must be courting someone!"

Sybil tried not to roll her eyes as she got up to collect her things again. She'd obviously given the other two enough to amuse themselves with for a while.

When she arrived back at the Branson house, Margaret was waiting for her.

"Come in dear. I'll show you to your room!" She led Sybil up the narrow stairs. "It's not very big. Before Kieran and Tommy moved out it was David's room when he was a wee lad. Then we used it more as a cupboard with a bed made up for Tommy when he does come home. I've freshened it up for you though." Sybil gasped as she stepped into the little room. The bed was neatly made, with a pale blue blanket draped across it. The white walls reflected the evening sun making it seem bright and bigger than it really was. Margaret had also placed some flowers on the tiny table.

"It's lovely!"

"Well, it's yours as long as you need."

Sybil let her aristocratic heritage fall by the wayside and hugged the older woman. "Thank you" she whispered. On the other side of the embrace Margaret Branson smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

**Invincible Girl**

Sybil kept this routine up for a while. She would work with Sarah in the mornings and would continue her chores in the afternoon. Mrs Branson just laughed when Sybil told her that she would have to reduce her hours. When she did have spare time she tried to spend it with Ethel and Edna in their rooms. It eased the feeling that she was interloping at Mrs Branson's, although with each visit more of Edna's possessions had moved in, so she felt more like she was trespassing there too. She enjoyed talking with the Branson women, and with each passing week she became more aware of the butterflies in her stomach when she thought about Tom and his afternoon off. One week she had relented to going out with him and they had got the motor bus to Bray and climbed the hill known as Bray Head to look over the sea. Tom had guided her up the rocky surface with his hand on the small of her back and at the top, looking over the tranquil water, he had laced his fingers with hers and began:

"I don't suppose…"

They had been interrupted by a patrol group arriving to keep lookout for German submarines and the moment was lost.

'Damn this war!' Sybil thought on their way back. She'd joined the nursing course because of lost friends and sorrow for the times they had already shared. Now after Edward and the strange tension with Tom, she cursed it for all the future opportunities that were lost. She was of a generation that was rapidly losing its men, its youth and now, it seemed, its hope as well. After a beautiful day, she had retired to her room full of gloomy thoughts.

Today they walked to the park that they had visited after they met for the first time. In the daylight Sybil could better make out the trees around the border and the variety of shrubs and flowers which formed a centre point. Everything was just starting to change colour in the early autumn. They sat on a bench this time and watched the people walking through the space.

"Sybil," Tom eventually turned to her, breaking the silence that had settled between them, "I wondered whether you would like to join me for a family dinner at my aunt's this evening?"

Sybil closed her eyes against the question. Margaret had already asked her, but that had been a simple conversation: _"That's very kind Mrs Branson, but I think it might be too soon." "P'rhaps you are right dear. Another time."_ She sensed with Tom it wouldn't be so easy.

"I'm terribly flattered…"

"Don't say that."

"Why not?" She looked up at him.

"Because flattered is a word posh people use when they are getting ready to say no." He practically spat the offending word back at her. She didn't reply. "Why not Sybil?" He demanded.

"I just… I don't think it would be appropriate."

"Appropriate? I'm inviting you. What's so inappropriate about that? This isn't even the first time you've turned me down. Am I really so repulsive to you?"

"No!" She retorted hotly.

"Then why?"

"Tom, it's more complicated than whether I like you or not."

"Is it?"

"Yes! I can't hide who I am. I am English, whether I agree with what they are doing or not. It's not easy living here. Doors get slammed in my face, market vendors refuse to serve me. The butcher down Henrietta street threatened to take my arm off if he ever sees me again. Your aunt is hosting a family dinner. It's not fair if I join you – I'd be a foreigner, an enemy." Her voice softened. "Even with you."

Tom looked at his feet. He knew she was right. The political situation was such that he did admittedly worry about her walking the streets on her own. And his aunt had lost her son…

"Well, what about dinner another time then? Just you and me?"

"We'll see."

~X~

While the Bransons were out, Sybil was feeling the desperate need to talk to someone. She decided to chance the walk to see Ethel in case the redhead was alone. She wasn't, and there was no way that Sybil was going to talk about her feelings for Tom Branson with Edna there. However she was able to pick up her post, among which was another letter from Mary. Could she write to her sister? Once upon a time Mary would have been the first person she would go to. She opened the letter and read:

_Dearest Sybil,_

_I know you and I know you feel you have something to prove, but darling please stop this nonsense and come home. Mama and Papa are positively frantic over you. Papa even wanted to travel to Ireland to drag you back personally. I managed to stop him as I know you'd be upset if he turned up unannounced, but Sybil it's been long enough. What are you staying for?_

_Matthew is on leave and came to Downton. He was shocked to hear you'd gone off. He brought his fiancée. There, is that enough to tempt you?_

_Your affectionate sister, Mary_

She was grateful to Mary for placating their father, but it meant that entrusting her with the secret of Tom Branson might not go down very well. She sighed.

~X~

When the family got home they found Sybil frantically scrubbing the Kitchen floor.

"Sybil dear, are you alright?" Mrs Branson asked, noting the girl's red eyes and recognising the signs of grief and pain.

"Yes Mrs Branson. I just needed something to do, but I am nearly finished and will be out of your way."

"You're not in the way. We all need a minute, then shall we have tea in the front room?" Margaret ushered the rest of them out of the kitchen, but Tom stayed having seen the open letter on the table. He couldn't help but skim through it, driven by his curiosity.

"That's private!" Sybil was up in an instant and snatched the letter away from him.

"Sorry. I'm just still trying to figure out who you are, and as your sister says, what you are doing here."

"I'm here because your mother was kind enough to let me stay in difficult circumstances and because I'm working," she snapped back, "as a means to keep myself financially."

"What work?" He returned scornfully. "Doing the shopping and scrubbing floors for a load of old women?"

"Tom, I'm trying! What else can I do with two months auxiliary nurses training, fresh off the course with no experience? At least now your sister has put a good word in for me at the hospital and is letting me help her. I want to make something of myself Tom, just like you do. And I have my reasons, so you needn't judge me so!"

"But why Ireland? You're not Irish. You don't seem to have any ties here and I've yet to meet someone who knows your full name." She didn't answer him. "Why won't you give me anything?" He asked angrily, taking her silence as a slight on him and his family.

"Don't badger me please!"

"Why do you have to be so angry all the time?" His exasperation clear.

"Me?!" She retorted. "Why do you have to be so angry and intrusive to my personal life?"

"I lost a cousin in the Easter Rising. He was walking down North Kings Street one day and an English soldier saw him and shot him dead. When they asked why he was killed, the officer said 'because he was probably a rebel'. So don't blame me if I am mistrusting. The English are in a sorry state if they are fighting by ifs and maybes." He saw the distant look in her eyes. "You know something." She began to shake her head but suddenly he had a vice like grip on her arm. "You know something! Tell me."

"Tom, that h…" Hot tears were already running down her face.

"Tell me!" He sounded desperate.

"I was there." She said quietly.

"You were there?" Those weren't the words he had expected to hear.

"He was murdered, yes. I still see him when I close my eyes. His… his body on the pavement." She took a shaky breath. Tom's grip softened and he waited for her to continue. Her voice was strained and distant. "I screamed at him. I told him he wasn't the man I married. It was the last thing I ever said to him." Tom frowned and she jerked her arm away. "You're not the only one who lost someone." Her footsteps rang out loud and angry behind her as she fled down the hallway and up the stairs. She had to get away from him. Tom moved to go after her, but his mam appeared from the front room.

"Leave the girl alone. We've always said you would make a good newspaperman with that mouth of yours, but sometimes it runs away with you. She's been through enough and she's still hurting."


	10. Chapter 10

**Invincible Girl**

"I don't understand why they are changing it?" David continued, driving his mother slightly more mad.

"I don't care if it changes, it's only 20 minutes, but why does it have to be English?"

"'Only 20 minutes' is messing everything up at the hospital. Shift patterns, patients' meals, everything."

"Sybil, dear, lets go and see if the beef is ready." The older lady said with some desperation.

"Then why don't hospitals just stay on Dublin mean time?" Darrell proposed.

"Or you could change it by just a minute a day. Nobody would notice that way." David grinned.

"I remember you doing that!" Darrell retorted. "It was while I was at school and my teacher got more and more angry as the days went on and I had no idea how I was so late."

David chuckled. "You always leave everything to the last minute, so it was funny to see how long it took before you just came with me at the right time."

"It wasn't funny!"

"It was."

"Okay, it was when mam realised!"

David paled. "She over-reacted."

"No she didn't. Tom will back me up on that when he gets here."

Sybil's stomach dropped at the mention of his name. It would be the first time she saw him since they argued.

~X~

Mrs Branson had explained to her bewildered son that Sybil had been widowed and perhaps just wasn't ready to talk about it, but he was hurting at her seeming lack of trust when they had been getting on so well. He went back to his rooms at work that night. Margaret had then gone up to see Sybil and the girl confided in her about the letter and Mary's renewed plea to go home and how she hadn't meant to snap at Tom. Margaret told her bluntly to tell Tom everything the following week when he came home for dinner.

Now Sybil was wearing her best dress (that she had with her at least), had baked him a cake and was feeling very on edge.

"I still don't understand why we can't keep Dublin time…"

The front door opened and shut and Sybil held her breath.

"Tom!" Both of his younger siblings cried at once.

"What do you think about the time changing?" David beat Darrell to asking.

"He'll only say it's British oppression. I don't know why you bother asking him."

"Sarah! Tom words it better than that." Darrell linked her arm with her brother and winked at him. He smiled back, relaxing. He'd been admittedly tense at the idea of coming back and facing Sybil, but his mother had insisted and he certainly wouldn't dare risk her wrath. Now his siblings were being so wonderfully endearing and distracting that he almost didn't notice her with his mother on the other side of the room. Almost. She was wearing a fine dress that he hadn't seen before and she looked hesitant. Like she was as nervous as he was. Maybe his Mam was right and they just needed to talk.

~X~

Sybil remained quiet for most of dinner, but it didn't matter as Darrell and David continued their barrage. Afterwards Sarah and Darrell got up and left the room although the younger of the Branson sisters couldn't hold back from looking between her brother and the pretty English girl. Mrs Branson ushered David out too, despite his protests that there was cake and why couldn't he have any.

"Cake?" Tom began. "That's a rare treat."

"I made it myself." Sybil brought it over to the table and handed Tom a slice on a small plate.

"Mmm, that's heavenly," he murmured between mouthfuls. Sybil smiled at him.

"I owe you an explanation," she stated plainly.

"And I owe you an apology. I didn't respect your privacy." She nodded, almost absentmindedly.

"I met someone on my nursing course. He was one of my first patients, and I guess an element of what they say about soldiers and nurses is true. I fell in love, or at least what I thought was love. We went to my parents and they objected to the match. I don't even know what Edward did before the war, but you guessed right about my family being wealthy. He didn't have a title and that was that. He proposed when he found out he was posted over here. We got married." She looked down at her hands.

"You don't have to tell me." Tom encouraged. She looked up at him, and into the depths of his gorgeous blue eyes.

"I want to." He smiled at her. She took a breath. "We came over here and then he was killed in the rising. Just after he…" She exhaled again. "I can't say it! Just being there was horrible, but knowing he was your cousin… That's why I didn't want to go for dinner with your aunt. How could I ever face her?!"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard."

"I didn't know how to tell you. I thought if you knew the truth, you'd hate me."

"I don't hate you. In fact I rather…" Her finger, pressed softly against his lips, stopped him.

"Please don't say it. Not yet. I haven't been widowed a year yet. I feel guilty every time…"

"Shh," he interrupted, "this time you stop." He looked at her lips. "Don't think." He whispered and leaned across the table. Her arm wound its way around his neck and he kissed her, and when his hand moved to caress the side of her face she couldn't help but moan in contentment. A noise in the kitchen broke them apart.

"David, what are you doing in here?" Tom growled at his brother.

"I wanted some cake," he replied jovially, "don't let me stop you." He wandered out of the room, calling back over his shoulder: "This is really good Sybil. You'll make him a happy man!" Tom rolled his eyes and Sybil blushed furiously. She stood up and began to fill the sink to wash up. Tom wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I can't believe I get to hold you like this. You know I fell for you the moment I first saw you."

"Tom," she chided gently, "what if your mother walks in?" He sighed and let her go, instead picking up a cloth and dutifully helping. "Do you think Darrell and David are still discussing the time?"

"I doubt it. Even politics can't out-do cake." They both chuckled.

"Oh! I meant to tell you. Sarah has got me a place at the hospital!" Tom dropped what he was doing, picked Sybil up and spun her round in congratulations, and this time she didn't stop him.

"That's grand!"

"It will only be the basics and a lot of cleaning up, but a job in a hospital is more than I could have dreamed of six months ago."

"You'll soon be the next Elizabeth Bell."

"I'm not sure about that." Sybil felt honoured at his comparison to Ireland's first female doctor and leading suffragette.

"I'd bet on you."

"Oh Tom."

When Margaret caught them moments later, they broke their embrace and stood before her, hand in hand, looking like a pair of naughty school children who were not in the least remorseful. She didn't want to break the happy atmosphere completely, but made a mental note to keep a closer eye on them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Invincible Girl**

The Somme Offensive had finally drawn to a close. More and more anti-conscription notices were appearing in the newspapers as the Nationalists continued to resist recruitment in Ireland. Christmas had been and gone, as had Sybil and Edward's anniversary. The SS Laurentic sank on the 25 January, and the newspaper this morning had yet more reports of bodies washing up on the northern shores. Sybil shuddered. When would this war end?! She straightened out the fresh sheets she had just put on the bed, gathered up the dirty ones she had taken off and moved on to the next one. She was enjoying working at the hospital, even if a lot of it was just domestic tasks. She'd been there about four months and often lingered after her work was done to talk to the other nurse and to observe the doctors. Again she straightened out the new sheets and picked up the old ones.

"Ah! Sybil. There you are." Dr Kirkpatrick appeared in the ward. Her arms still full, she turned to face the doctor.

"Yes sir?"

"Sybil, as you may know, Nurse Magee is leaving in a few weeks to have a baby. The staff have all discussed it and we would like you to take over from her. It would be more hours but I think you came here wanting to be a nurse and not a charwoman. You've proved yourself capable on a number of occasions, despite your lack of experience, and we believe you would be a very valuable member of the team." She stood staring at him in shock. "What do you say?"

"I… I'd be honoured sir."

"Well then, excellent. Next week we'll have you shadow Siobhan before she leaves and after that you can take her place." He paused and took stock of the young woman standing before him. He liked Sarah Branson and trusted her judgement, but when she brought an English girl in to work at the hospital he thought she had gone mad. This one had somehow managed to prove him wrong. She wasn't afraid of hard work and she was as stubborn as Sarah – especially in the face of adversary to her being English – yes, he liked Sarah a lot, and he was beginning to like Sybil too. "Carry on nurse."

His polished shoes rhythmically drummed out his steps as he left the ward. Sybil could only stare after him as she tried to regain her composure. An actual nursing job! She held in her excited giggles and carried on with the laundry, but she couldn't wait to tell Sarah that evening.

The whole family made a fuss over her that evening. Sarah smiled that lazy smile at her until Sybil pulled the most stoic Branson into a tight embrace. Darrell was still sceptical on the choice of job but Sybil knew it suited her and it was what she wanted to do.

~X~

Sybil gave it two weeks after Siobhan had left before writing to her own family. She needed to make sure that they weren't displeased with her at the hospital and that this job would be long term.

_To my family,_

_I know you worry about me and that you still believe that the choice I made was wrong. Maybe it was, but I was young and in love. All three of us are stubborn. We get that from you Papa, and from Granny. I was so very innocent when I first came here, but a year has opened my eyes to life outside of Downton Abbey. Other than York I had never experienced anything other than the privilege of rank – a privilege you provided me. The War both here in Ireland as well as on the continent has shown me how dark life can be, but it was important that I learnt that lesson. I know you won't understand that, but I hope you can be pleased for me when I tell you I finally have a job as a nurse. I love nursing, it truly is the best job in the world. To have a full day, to be tired in a good way and to know I am helping people makes my heart float. Therefore please accept my decision to stay here. I know you want to save and protect me from this world, but I beg you not to. I also hope in time we may write more frequently._

_Your loving daughter,_

_Sybil._

At Christmas she had made a point of writing to them and had received a letter back from Mary. In January she had also received a letter from grandmama Martha, mainly repeating the benefits of living in America and suggesting to Sybil that as she was living away from home she may as well cross the pond. Sybil could see the merit in her logic but she was finally happy where she was. Besides fewer and fewer ships were taking passengers.

She called into the post-office to send it as her and Tom walked to their park. She told him about the role and the different procedures she'd seen as they sat down on a bench.

"Is it what you thought it would be?" He asked.

"No, it's more savage and more cruel than I could've imagined, but I feel useful for the first time in my life and that must be a good thing." She rested her head on his shoulder.

"So you wouldn't go back? To your life before?"

"What, scrubbing floors or dressing for dinner and lounging around all day? I don't think I could do either unless I absolutely had to. Besides, where would I do that with you?" She nudged him playfully.

"I might become a famous politician, then we'd have to dress for dinner, and after dinner…" he continued by whispering in her ear. Sybil blushed.

"Well… maybe I… maybe I wouldn't mind dressing for dinner so much."

He smiled, and then turned serious again. "But you are enjoying the nursing?"

"Yes. I enjoy helping people and I'm learning so much. Why?"

"I just want to make sure you're happy."

She melted a little at his sweet words. "I am."

"I should take you back to Mam's."

They walked back through the cold night, their breath visible in the air. Tumbling in through the door they were instantly glad of the warmth and particularly the embers still glowing in the front room. Without any further words Tom cupped her face in his hands and kissed her languidly.

"Tommy Branson! Let her go to bed!" Margaret scolded him.

Leaning his forehead against Sybil's he murmured "Goodnight, Mo grá."

Sybil obeyed Mrs Branson and went straight upstairs.

"If I keep catching you, I'm going to have to send one of your siblings everywhere with you." Margaret told her son in warning.

"I will marry her one-day Mam. It hasn't been the right time yet. She's still getting used to the job."

"Just don't do anything stupid in the meantime."

~X~

It wasn't very long before Sybil received a reply from Downton in response to her letter about her nursing. She assumed it would be from Mary again. She gasped as she read it:

_My darling Sybil,_

_You are right that your father is stubborn. He has been longing for news from you but is now refusing to read your letter. I feel quite clandestine composing a reply while he is out on the estate._

_I think you'll be a wonderful nurse. You have always been the most caring and having to play diplomat for Mary and Edith for so many years will stand you in good stead for any difficulties that arise. I do wish you could come back – the hospital here is overflowing with wounded men. Perhaps you could help us turn Downton into a convalescent home? But I do understand your need to stay. You have a free and adventurous spirit, and I think your Papa and I may have overlooked who you really are. We saw it all as juvenile folly and couldn't see that we were trapping you._

_I will never give up on you, my darling baby girl, and if there's anything you need please do write. It was so wonderful to hear from you directly. I know we quarrelled and I'm sorry for how we parted._

_Your loving Mama_


	12. Chapter 12

_Well, this is it. The final chapter! It may not seem like much but this is a huge achievement for me! Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited my story! Hope you've enjoyed it! :)_

* * *

**Invincible Girl**

Sybil tried to keep her excitement in check as she walked up the grand drive of Tom's employer. 'Heavens' she thought 'is Downton as intimidating for the guests of the staff, or is it the thick copse of trees on either side of the path that is making me feel uneasy?'. She frowned then. Did the servants even have guests? She remembered Mr Grigg and how flustered Carson was at his presence. A matter for another time she decided. Trying to keep out of sight of the house, she made her way to where she figured the garage would be, based on the little Tom had told her and the location at Downton. It wasn't long before she found him and her heart jumped a little seeing him working on the engine with his sleeves rolled to the elbow.

"Tom!" He jumped at her voice and winced as he hit his head on the bonnet of the car. She bit her lip in an effort not to laugh, but also feeling slightly guilty. She dashed over to him. "Tom," her eyes were shining with excitement. "My mother wrote back to me. She's forgiven me!"

"That's…" he wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Amazing!" Sybil supplied. "I'm so happy I just had to come and tell you, but I've got a shift starting at midday so I best get back." She turned to go.

"What time do you finish?" He asked and she turned back to him.

"About nine."

"Let's go for dinner to celebrate. I'll pick you up from the hospital."

"Okay. See you later!" She blew him a kiss and darted off back down the drive. Tom watched her go. He was happy for her of course, but would this mean that she would go home? His stomach lurched as he pondered a life with Sybil back in England, away from him.

"You really need to ask her, Tom." He muttered to himself as he resumed his work.

~X~

Sybil had taken her apron off and had run a comb through her unruly hair, but the grey dress felt very plain for dinner with Tom. Maybe it was her upbringing but it just didn't feel grand enough. She frowned at her reflection. She half wished she had some lipstick as daring as Edna's but she also wondered at her own silliness. Why was she nervous? It was true she hadn't been able to read Tom's expression when she told him her news, but he had been the one to suggest celebrating. Anyway, why on earth would he be unhappy about it? She smoothed her skirt down one last time and left the building. When she saw him on the front steps he looked distant and almost as nervous as she felt, but he saw her and smiled and they quickly fell into their easy conversation. The pub they went to was far busier than Tom had hoped for, but the food was good and there were less stares from people up this end of town. Still, he looked over to a group of drunken men at the other side of the room, not the right place for a romantic gesture.

He paid quickly once they had finished and led Sybil out hand in hand. She looked quizzically at him but didn't say anything as he began walking them in the direction of his work. It wasn't forbidden for him to have company, but they both stayed quiet and kept to the shadows.

"What is it?" She asked the minute they were in his rooms above the garage. He lit the lone lamp and turned to her.

"Will you go back? Now that your mam's written?" He cringed at how blunt an accusation it was, but he had to admit to himself that he was scared of her answer. She looked at him gobsmacked.

"Leave? Now? When things are finally settling down?" She paused. "Oh Tom, is that why you've been so distracted this evening?"

"Partly," he took her hand in his, "Sybil, if you're not leaving" he knelt in front of her and watched her eyes grow wide, "will you marry me? I've told myself you're too far above me and our people are fighting a war, but together, just us, it feels like we're equals. Things are changing and I'll make something of myself, I promise."

"I know you will," she all but whispered.

"Then bet on me, and I promise to devote every waking minute to your happiness."

She was actually crying. The sincerity of his words and the longing in his eyes pulling at her heart. "Yes! Yes Tom. Yes." She smiled and tried to sniff away the tears as he wrapped her in his embrace.

"Stay with me tonight?" He murmured into her shoulder. "I don't think I can let you go."

She pulled away just enough to lean in and capture his lips with her own. He responded eagerly, running his tongue along her bottom lip and begging for permission. She moaned, granting him entry and feeling butterflies in her stomach. His hands moved down from her waist to her hips, pulling her further into him. She moaned again.

"Sybil," he practically growled in warning, knowing if she didn't stop him soon, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"I have been married before you know." She told him breathily. "Not quite the scandal it could be." He moaned at her sweet words, before sweeping her up and moving to the small bedroom.


End file.
